


love sticks, sweat drips

by blastellanos



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, but it's hatesex, forewarned is forearmed!, like he says yes, mild violence, so there's some pushback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/pseuds/blastellanos
Summary: “Can we talk?” José asks.James frowns a little and then he shrugs a little."I guess." James doesn't sound particularly thrilled with the idea.





	love sticks, sweat drips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badritual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/gifts).



> Title is from 'kiss with a fist' by Florence + the Machine.
> 
> Happy birthday to the lovely [thesaddestboner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner)!

After the game, the showers, the interviews, the obligatory coaching, ‘teachable moment’ about teamwork, a small lecture from Miggy, a bigger lecture from _Nick_ \-- José was ready to be done with all of this and home. He was still irritated, saying unkind things in the back of his mind. He’d have to pray longer tonight and try and absolve himself of some of the less than nice things he was thinking.

He’d even tried to smooth it over in the interview, after. But McCann had been looking at him from across the room with a dark look on his face and it’d only made the feeling bubble over further. He didn’t even get to fight him. Nick had stopped them. Mostly Nick. 

He kind of hated Nick right now. Even if that was not entirely fair. 

But still. That look James was giving him was making his blood burn hot. And if anything, it was making him angrier than the little spat had anyways. 

Tomorrow they'd all say their public apologies, go on about how just high emotions caused some outbursts, how everyone was committed to the team and friendship.

José narrows his eyes at James, squints at him, until he sees a little bit of his lashes like a cage. James is staring right back at him. Staring at him, with his mouth pressed into a line and dark red color on his cheeks. 

It's anger. It has to be. So that makes José feel even more upset, even though it probably shouldn't. And it makes him feel as though he ought to finish what they started in the dugout. 

So he slinks like a predator, waiting, until the press is gone… until their teammates thinned out… and it was just him and James, and J.D. and Tyler aren't too far away. 

But far away enough. 

“Can we talk?” José asks. 

James frowns a little and then he shrugs a little. 

"I guess." James doesn't sound particularly thrilled with the idea. But it's just the two of them now-- J.D. and Tyler leave together, talking loudly about-- José isn't really sure. He's far more focused on James. Still, José knows the walls have ears. 

"Not here." 

James rolls his eyes which spikes José's irritation level up again. He bites his tongue until it tastes bloody, but follows José out to the carpark. It's still daytime out, summer in Michigan, and the game hadn't gone on that long and even the media sessions had felt short today. José is glad, for all of this, and indicates that James should follow him. 

Which is how they wind up at José's place,

Arlene is down in Miami with José Jr., visiting relatives. A statement which is both true and an obfuscation-- there's a reason José's so keyed up, so irritated, so-- James had no right, but it doesn't mean he's the sole reason. He's a target. 

A punching bag. 

José feels bad for it. But not bad enough to stop. 

James looks odd in his living space, broad and uncomfortable. José is used to Arlene, to José Jr., to himself who are all more delicate. He wants to snap at James to not break anything, like maybe if he just digs his heels in and just throws the first blow he'll get what he wants. 

He still wants to fight James, the implications that he's not good at his position still sting underneath his skin like cactus needles. His clenches his hands until his nails bite into his palms. James isn't looking at him, he's looking around-- he's probably noticing every crack in José's foundation because sometimes James just seemed to know. 

"Stop being fucking nosy," José snaps at him and James settles his gaze on José and looks completely calm about the whole thing. 

"You wanted to talk, so talk. I ain't got the whole day to stand around here." James says and gestures for José to start. 

José wonders if everything just slides off James's back. 

"You no get to talk to me that way." José says. "You ain't the coach. You ain't nobody. You just a dumb rookie. Don't get in my fucking face again." 

James crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn't look angry anymore, like José is. In fact, he looks _bored_. 

That doesn't help quell José's irritation in the slightest. 

"You really brought me here to talk about _that_?" James shakes his head and heads for the door. "Get over it, Iglesias. You fucked up, just realize it, don't do it again, and move on." 

His hand is on the door handle when José grabs him by a handful of his shirt. José doesn't really know what he's doing so he shoves forward, knocking James face first into the door, and pinning him there. José is stronger than he looks even though James is big. He takes him by surprise. 

José pushes at James. 

"You need to apologize." José says. "A _real_ apology. You got no right. You--" 

James is stronger than José. He bucks him off and keeps him from falling by grabbing his arm. It only takes a few moments of tussling before their positions are reversed. José's back hits the solid wood of the door and James looms big in front of him. James has both of José's wrists in his hand and he pins them up above José's head. 

His other hand is pressed squarely in his chest, José struggles against the pin but can't really get the leverage he wants. 

There's blood on James's lip where he must have split it hitting the door, and now there's red slashed over his cheek bones, and his jaw is clenched so tight it almost makes José's teeth hurt. 

"I've been tryin' to respect you, Iglesias, but you're acting like a bratty child." James is voice is low and dark now. "You aren't immune to criticism just because I'm a rookie. You don't want me making commentary on your bad plays, then don't play bad." 

José feels like a feral animal, caged by something, and he wants to lash out, but James's grip on his wrists is firm and impossible to escape from. He feels his heart thudding in his chest, and he watches feeling it's like in slow machine as the blood trickles from James's lip. 

"Sleep it off, Iglesias." James says, condescending, and then finally lets him go. José's panting like he's run a marathon and everything is just-- 

He's going to lash out at James and he grabs on to him again, James shoves him back against the door. And gets in José's face. José thinks he should lash out, maybe headbutt or something. But he just focuses and surges forward and he's not sure what he's doing, but he licks the blood off from James's mouth. 

There's a moment of stunned silence. 

James doesn't seem to know what to do, letting go of José in surprise, but then James is moving in again. José parts his lips as James kisses him. It's rough, James's teeth snag on his lower lip and he reaches down, grabbing at José's knee to lift him up a little. 

José doesn't remember getting hard, but James rubs against him and he feels sparks explode behind his eyes. 

"Get off me I don't like you." José complains through a shuddering breath. James's fingertips dig into the sensitive skin of the back of his knee. 

"That so?" He reaches down and cups José's cock through his jeans, and squeezing in a way that makes José hiss in a breath, his head knocks back against the door. 

"Yeah." José tries to be firm, but it comes out more like an invitation. James has big hands, _strong_ hands and he can't remember the last time someone's touched him like this. He tries not to get caught up in it. As James moves his hand away and then steps away, leaving José flushed and panting and _wanting_ leaning back against the door. 

"I can leave then." James says and -- José's annoyed. James is infuriating. Everything about him seems to be a calculated move to wind José up even more. He doesn't know if James is doing it intentionally but he probably is and he moves away from the door. 

He should let James go. He should just let this all go. He clenches his jaw tight and he shoves his hands into his pockets, but he nearly feels faint with how fucking aroused he is. José lets out a sharp breath and watches as James unsubtly adjusts himself. 

"Can I go now?" James asks. 

"Fine." José says and he stalks away from the door. "I no care what you do just get out my face." 

James loops an arm around José's waist as he goes to walk by and pulls him back against him. José can feel the length of James's body against his back and his cock nudging between his cheeks, even though they're both still clothed. 

This is a bad idea, dangerous, stupid--

James's hand rubs along José's throat, thumb tucking into the hollow of it, feeling his quick heartbeat. José wants to run or scream or something but it's also-- nice isn't a good word for it. James rolls his hips against José's backside.

José feels heat spike through him and he tries to hold on to his irritation, which isn't difficult. James tightens his grip around José's throat, and his other squeezes painfully on José's hip. He likes it. Actually, he doesn't like it-- now he feels foggy and confused.  
James's thumb is stroking over José's throat. 

"Let me go." 

"No." James pulls him back in. "You started this, don't you wanna finish it?" James's breath is against his ear, José bites his own lower lip and squeezes his eyes shut as James grinds against him. José feels his pulse going crazy. He's hard enough he can feel it straining against the zipper of his jeans. His toes curl. 

James drags him back until they hit the couch and James sits, pulling José with him. James has deft hands, getting his pants open with one hand and he starts rubbing his hand over José's cock through the soft cotton of his boxers. 

José groans a little and pushes at James's wrist like he's trying to get him to leave him alone. But he likes it. James's teeth dig into his throat and it's too sharp, he wonders if James is trying to draw blood. 

"Hurts, asshole." José bites the words out. James bites him stingingly again and palms at his cock. 

"You love it." James says and José just huffs out a breath. 

José would never admit it-- but he does like it. James gets his hand into José's boxers and starts stroking him slowly, rubbing his thumb over the head of José's cock. José shudders against James and grinds down on his lap. James's cock is big, he can feel it against him. James starts sliding José's jeans down.

It feels like it's all happening too fast and James just puts José where he wants him. He spreads him out on the couch and settles between his thighs. José looks up at him, biting his lower lip, watching as James's eyes scan his face. 

"I hate you." José tells him and James shuts him up by pressing two fingers in his open mouth. 

"This will be a lot better if ya don't talk." James says. José glares at him and he bites down on James's fingers, but it's warningly more than hard, and James's low laugh makes heat pool low in José's stomach. He hates James. 

James spreads José's legs apart, pressing against the inside of his thigh, and digging his nails into the sensitive skin there. José hisses in a breath around James's fingers. James slides his fingers out of his mouth and presses them gently over José's rim. 

"You're not sticking that thing in me." José says as James slips a finger in. James laughs again as José bucks a little, back arching, and José shakes his head a little, pushing at James's hand. The wrestle a little, but James gets José's arms pinned above his head again. 

"You want me to stop?" James asks.

José swallows, throat working, and feeling incredibly dry. He should say yes, he doesn't even _like_ James. He doesn't like this. He doesn't want it. 

"No." José betrays himself. 

James laughs again and keeps working his fingers in him slow and careful. It's quiet except for the harsh sound of José's breathing and what he's sure is the pounding of his own heart in his ears. It's -- fuck, he doesn't know what it is, except good. But why does it have to be James? 

James isn't-- he doesn't even like him. At least J.D. was pretty and Nick looked like he was gentle, or god, anyone but James. But James's hands move expertly, deft and knows just where to press. It has José shaking like a leaf, his cock smearing precome all over his stomach. 

He can feel James moving in him, he's stroking his fingers inside of him, and there's two and James is surprisingly careful. He leans up a little and strokes José's hair off of his forehead and gives him an almost gentle look. 

"You okay?" He murmurs. José nods a little. 

"Just get on with it. I don't got all day either." 

James laughs softly and slides his fingers out. 

He wraps his fingers around José's cock and strokes him to keep him interested as he uses his other hand to slide his zipper down and James settles in between his legs a little more, and keeps stroking at José's cock as he starts to push in. 

José clutches at the upholstery on the couch and squeezes his eyes shut, spreads his legs out further, and grits his teeth as James slides in. It's a little painful, but not in a bad way, just that little sting on the edge of everything else, as he stretches to accommodate. James strokes a hand over José's cheekboke, then down his chest, tracing the flush growing on José's chest with his fingers. 

James hooks José's leg over his elbow and finishes sliding in. José feels the burn of the muscle with the way James holds his leg. And they're stilled for a moment, José flutters around James and squeezes around him. 

"You can move." José complains and James thumps him lightly in the chest, then slides his nails over José's nipples and keeps still inside of him. He wraps his hands around José's hips and pins him down by them. 

"Alright." James says. He starts slow though, with a rhythm that makes José want to crawl out of his skin. The friction is perfect, James's cock drags along inside of him and his fingers clutch at the couch more, until they hurt with how tightly he's gripping it. 

José groans a little and throw his arm over his eyes, cheeks going red, and mouth falling open. It's almost embarrassing how good it feels. José's done this before, but it feels like it's been a long time, and he's hardly ever felt so--

He doesn't know how he feels. Annoyed, maybe. Angry that it feels good with how much he doesn't like James. But he likes this. He might like _this_ version of James. This version of James is like a gentle giant, all soft strokes of his hands and slow rolls of his hips, and it's too much, 

Slow, careful, it crests in José like a wave. He doesn't look at James as he does it. He just listens to his encouraging voice, even though James isn't really saying words. Just noise. It's probably better that it's quiet. James pulls José closer and rocks his hips down into him. James's fingertips are leaving bruises in his hips. 

José loves it. He'd never admit it. 

"This all you got?" José asks. He looks at James then, watching his face. Watching the soft expression shift a little. James's lip curls like a snarl and he squeezes José's hips. 

"I guess I'll stop taking it easy on you." James says-- and he does. The next time he thrusts in, it's hard and deep and makes José arch off the couch, and all his breath leaves him, like he's got the wind knocked out of him. 

It rattles the couch and the end table next to it, as James holds him down and thrusts into him, harder and deeper, and José covers his face again. His face feels so hot and his heart is pounding and he bites the inside of his mouth, but that doesn't hold him off for long. 

José cries out as James angles his thrusts, sparks explode behind his eyes and he keeps grabbing the couch and then he reaches up and grabs at James's forearm instead, until his nails are digging into the taut muscle there, and he wonders if James is going to make him stop. 

His head feels fuzzy, full of cotton, and he can't concentrate, because James is everything, clogging up all of his senses right now. He's not going to last. 

Considering James's sudden uneven thrusting, he doesn't think James is going to either. 

"Fuck," José whines out and he grabs onto James harder and rocks back against him. Skin slapping against skin and it's so good-- it's too good. He can't get any leverage or do anything but take it-- James is owning him completely and it feels so good. 

"That better?" James asks, his tone a little teasing, taunting. "This more like what you wanted or is that not enough either?" 

The zipper of James's jeans digs into his skin.

"I hate you." José says again, but his words are warbly, half moaned and half spoken. James laughs again and drags José back down on his cock. He feels the pressure, feels it building, as James lets go of José's hips and starts stroking him. 

José clenches and shudders around James. 

"I'm-- I fuck-- Mac, I'm gonna--" José gasps out. James strokes him a little more firmly, quickly, rocking his hips in a stilted rhythm. 

"Come on." James's voice is urgent, low and desperate and José can't hold on. He arches again and comes explosively with a cry, spilling all over James's hand and dripping on his own stomach. James keeps fucking him through his orgasm, pounding into him, until his hips stutter and he pulls out. 

He comes all over José's ass, he can feel it, hot against his skin and he lays there, quietly breathing, rough and a little uncomfortable, stretched open. James pulls back and cleans himself up with a handful of kleenex from the tissue box on the table. 

He fixes his clothing and José sits up, grabbing his boxers and pulling them back on. He feels awkward, a little, now that they're finished-- he feels the urgency and the irritation has all faded away, leaving him confused and uncertain. 

James looks over at José and then stands up, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans. 

"We good?" James asks.

José glares at him. 

"Fine." He says. 

James doesn't stay and José doesn't think about whatever he's feeling, or not feeling, which is just uncomfortable and strange. He doesn't fight James on leaving. He wants to but he just ignores the feeling, and listens as the door shut behind James. 

José lays back against the couch and shakes his head. 

*

He meets James's eyes in the clubhouse; as a final fuck you to him. He doesn't apologize. 

James finds him after the game. 

"Can we talk?" But the look James gives him makes José think that no talking is gonna get done. 

"I guess." José says and grabs his duffel bag. He's not sure what this is the beginning of, but it's something.


End file.
